


The Lost Tales

by RedFox13



Category: Dark Souls
Genre: Character Development, Cute, Dating, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Funny, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe angst, NK is a cinnamon roll, Ornstein is a workaholic, Romance, TLC, more tags to come?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22342936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFox13/pseuds/RedFox13
Summary: A series of tales about Gwyn's firstborn and his first knight. Each chapter is a different story. If anything becomes mature or explicit, there will be prior warning. But this will be mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, and cuteness. I tried to place the stories in order and tie them together. Reader suggestions welcome.
Relationships: Dragonslayer Ornstein/ Nameless King
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. A Soldier's Duty

The skies over Lordran darkened and churned with an approaching storm. A wild wind swept over two warriors who stood alone in a rugged mountain pass. One wore a loose fitting robe covered with tough, thick dragon scales. He had short silver hair, and vivid golden eyes. In his hands he clutched a winged spear that crackled with lightning. The other was a Silver Knight, his face was unreadable under his helmet, his brilliant armor was dulled with dust and darkened with soot. He brandished a spear of his own as he stood at the other warrior's back.

All around them lay the scattered corpses of drakes and knights. The ground was marred with craters from lightning and scorched by dragon fire. The foul stench of sulphur and burnt flesh hung in the air, towering plumes of acrid smoke drifted skyward to mingle with the clouds. The screams of the soldiers and roars of the drakes had faded into a deafening silence. After sometime the Silver Knight finally spoke up. "Are you alright, your grace?" The warrior turned to face him as he lowered his weapon. "I'm fine. Though that may not be for long when Lord Gwyn hears the report." He frowned slightly.

What had begun as a patrol into the mountains quickly turned into a skirmish when they were ambushed by a brood of young drakes. Many of the Silver Knights had been recently recruited, tragically their inexperience led to their demise. Yet somehow one survived, Farram could tell this one was different. The way he elegantly danced and dashed fearlessly through the fray had impressed him.

"Tell me, what is your name." He asked. The other replied, "I am Ornstein, soldier of Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight." He stood tall and proud at this statement. The warrior chuckled, "I am Farram, son of Gwyn, god of war." He replied just as reverently. Ornstein gave a polite bow, "It is an honor to meet you, your grace." Farram was about to reply when a crash of thunder rumbled across the sky. A faint breeze brought the scent of rain to mix in with the foul air.

"Your grace? It seems a storm is coming. Perhaps we should get you to a drier place?" Ornstein suggested as he looked up at the skies. Farram's response was unexpected. "No, first we must see to the dead. It would be wrong to leave them here to rot." That was the first time Ornstein had heard of any royal showing concern for his subordinates. To Lord Gwyn or the other Lords the Silver Knights were no more than glorified cannon fodder. And to see the royal heir digging graves and kneeling over the fallen in reverent prayer, Ornstein gained a new respect for this Lord.

A heavy rain began to pour as they finished their grim task. Farram picked up his spear and set off in the direction of their camp. Ornstein followed a few steps behind, constantly watching the surroundings for danger. But when he was certain the threat was gone he allowed himself to relax. The storm was unrelenting and both were soaked to the bones by the time they reached their camp. They were swiftly ushered to Lord Gwyn's tent where he was warming himself by a fire.

The Lord of Sunlight sat in his chair with his fist clenched, his dark expression mirrored the storm outside. On a table next to him was a glass of wine and several reports bearing ill tidings and news of failed missions. Farram and Ornstein knelt before their Lord. With a huff of annoyance he motioned for them to rise and bid his son to speak. Ornstein kept his eyes on his Lord's fist as it crackled with electricity. The more Farram told of their skirmish, the angrier Lord Gwyn became. The furious god finally snapped and let loose a lightning bolt that went flying towards Farram. Without a second thought Ornstein leapt in front of him and took the brunt of the strike....

The next thing he knew he was waking up in a medical tent. Farram sat by his side, his face full of concern. When he noticed Ornstein staring at him in confusion he asked, "What compelled you to do such a foolish thing? You could've been killed!"  
"I was doing my duty your grace. You showed my brothers more dignity in death than any royal ever did in life. You've earned my respect and loyalty, so i took it upon myself to protect you." He rasped as he tried to sit up. Farram wanted to reply but a herald entered the tent asking for him and promptly ushered him away. He bid Ornstein farewell with a warm smile. He gave an awkward salute in return.


	2. Squire

Ornstein gave a weary sigh as he tossed and turned in his bunk. All around him his sleeping comrades snored loudly. He wished he could drift off into a dream as easily as they, but sleep had always been elusive for him. Feeling restless he climbed from his bed and as silently as he could manage he crept out the door. The streets of Anor Londo glowed warmly in the flickering torchlight, it was more like evening than midnight. Like a phantom he moved past the manor houses of the sleeping Lords up to the training yard where he and the other silver knights regularly sparred.

If he wasn't going to sleep then he would at least get some practice in. The knight guarding the armory was nowhere to be found, he shook his head. "Damn slacker, better pray his commander doesn't find out." He muttered as he ducked inside. He eyed the racks of glistening spears, swords, and axes thinking of which to train with. He picked up a spear since that was his preferred choice, but he changed his mind when he saw a Black Knight halberd sitting in the corner. Normally it was forbidden for anyone but the Black Knights to wield such weapons. But who was going to stop him? He grinned at the thought using a new and more challenging weapon.

Ornstein found the halberd was far heavier but more balanced than his own weapon. He readied himself with a few warm up strikes before lunging towards a training dummy. His typical routine with a spear wasn't exactly meant for a halberd, but with a few adjustments he found it much more enjoyable than his silver knight spear. He grinned widely as he brought down his weapon and shattered a dummy.

Up above on the ramparts Farram was strolling along. Ongoing construction of the cathedral kept him awake, so instead of forcing himself to sleep he wandered the palace grounds. As he was passing above the training yard he spotted movement and stopped to watch. Down below a figure was wailing away at a wooden dummy. He couldn't help but stare entranced at the fluid, graceful movements of the warrior as he sparred. At first he thought it was a Black Knight since they wielded their halberd, but when they leapt into the air with a flourish and pierced the dummy with a charge he knew who it was. "It would be a shame to let such potential go to waste, I must do something about that." Farram said to himself with a half smile. He continued on and let Ornstein train in peace.

Ornstein was genuinely surprised when a herald approached him at his post with a summons from Farram. He hadn't seen him in some time since their duties had kept them busy. But after their first encounter they had become good friends with a mutual respect for each other. From time to time he would stop by his post near the gate and visit. He was expecting him to be led to the palace, but instead he noticed he was being taken to the training yard. The young god was directing a group of Black Knights and preparing for sparring practice. Ornstein waited patiently against the wall for him to finish. When the knights broke off into pairs he approached and greeted him with a bow. "I'm at your service, your grace. What is your command?"

Farram smiled warmly at him as he turned to face him. "Greetings Ornstein. Forgive me for pulling you away from your duties, but I need your assistance. I'm looking for a sparring partner, and I've heard you are quite skilled." Ornstein felt himself blush at the compliment. "Ah, thank you, your grace. But I'm sure I'm a far cry from those you usually spar with, you may not be satisfied with me." Farram turned to a rack behind him and handed him the halberd he used earlier in his secret practice session. "Your late night performance was most impressive, you have a natural talent that few possess. I would like to see how you fare against a real opponent."

Ornstein felt a lump form in his throat, he didn't realize he was being watched. He nervously accepted the weapon, and together they did their warm up drills, Farram had chosen to use his winged spear. By the time he was ready his nervousness was replaced by a calm focus. He took a deep breath and raised his weapon. Farram thrust his spear forward, only to hit open air. Ornstein had leapt up and brought the halberd down, the other maneuvered to block. The force of the blow made Farram's hands tingle, and a wide grin spread across his face. "Haha! You don't hold back do you? I like that!" He laughed as he readied a counter.

"It would be an insult to you if I went easy, your grace." Ornstein said calmly as he rolled away from a strike. Together they sparred as if they had done it for years, each reading and countering blows with graceful precision. The Black Knights that were there paused to watch them duel. Several began to applaud them, a few even cheered for the silver knight that was holding his own against the god of war.

The pair were breathless and drenched with sweat, aching muscles pleading for them to relent. And finally they did, lowering their weapons they turned to the cheering knights and gave a duelist's bow. "You may return to your drills now." Farram panted, the knights hurriedly scrambled back to their places. Looking over at Ornstein he gave an approving nod. "That was the fiercest duel I've had in some time. You have no business being a Silver Knight with your skill."

Ornstein grinned, "Thank you, your grace." He had begun to move towards a weapon rack to return the halberd but stopped short when Farram put his hand on his shoulder. "How would becoming my squire strike your fancy? You'd find it more fulfilling than guard duty." The halberd slipped from his grasp and Ornstein winced as it landed on his foot. "Ow!! Ah, I-i- I'd be honored to be your squire, your grace!"

Farram laughed as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Excellent! For now take the day off, I'll send a herald to show you to your new quarters. I look forward to training with you again." With that he set off to oversee the other knights, leaving Ornstein in a happy daze.


	3. Gwyndolin

Ornstein was adjusting well to his new position as squire. When he wasn't training with his master, he was running errands or polishing his master's armor sets and extensive weapon collection. The only thing he didn't like was not being able to attend strategy meetings with his master, instead he often had to stand outside the conference room. But still he heard everything and had formed many opinions about Lord Gwyn's plans, but it would be inappropriate for him to speak up.

He was leaning against the wall absorbed in thought as the voice of Lord Gwyn boomed from the other side. A wayward dragon had been sighted on the northern border of the realm, Farram was volunteering to go after it. A sudden low wail caught his attention causing him to stand straight and look around. The cry sounded again, almost like a small child. Down the hall was mostly storage, but the furthest door led to Gwyndolin's room. His birth had been grudgingly accepted by Lord Gwyn, his mother Velka had a viscous falling out with the Lord of Sunlight and was promptly banished from Lordran. The child was left in Anor Londo even though his father clearly had no love for him.

Shortly after Fillianore was born, and they moved Gwyndolin from the royal nursery to an out of the way corridor in the palace. The pitiful wails from the child began to tug at Ornstein's heart. It bothered him greatly that he had been placed where the priestesses wouldn't hear him. And by the late hour he guessed they would all be asleep. He looked towards the other end of the hall, then back at Gwyndolin's room. "They won't miss me if I'm gone for a few minutes. After all, my duty is to the royal family." He said to himself as he grabbed his weapon and made his way to the end of the hall.

He propped his spear against the door and stepped inside, the sound of Gwyndolin softly crying could be heard coming from a crib by the wall. Ornstein frowned at the state of the child's room. Everything was so dull, plain, and barren. Most of the furniture looked like well worn hand-me-downs, perhaps belonging to his master. Besides a dusty book shelf in the corner there were no toys, or dolls, or anything a child would typically have. He was livid at how the boy had been casually discarded, but that anger faded away as he peered into his crib.

A little baby lay wrapped in a thin white blanket, his silver hair poked out from underneath a cap on his head, big golden doe eyes wet with tears blinked at him as he sadly wailed again. "Fret not, little one. You're safe." Ornstein whispered as he removed his helmet. His long wavy hair spilled down his shoulders as he bent over to place his helmet on a side table, followed by his gauntlets. Gently he picked up Gwyndolin from his crib and cradled him in his arms. With a slow rocking motion he carefully moved towards the window. There he leaned against the wall and began to sing softly an old lullaby he learned long ago. Gradually Gwyndolin's cries ceased, he gave a toothless grin as he looked up at Ornstein.

The meeting had concluded and everyone began to disperse. Farram had expected Ornstein to be waiting right outside, but gave a look of surprise when he was nowhere to be found. He looked both ways down the corridor before the sound of someone singing made him perk up his ears. The door to Gwyndolin's room was partly open and Ornstein's silver spear was propped against the wall.

Farram silently walked up to the door way and peered inside. Ornstein was standing by the window cradling Gwyndolin in his arms and softly singing to him. This was the first time he'd seen Ornstein without his helmet. He wasn't sure if it was his long fiery red hair, his deep emerald eyes, or how the moonlight reflected off his silver armor giving him an angelic glow, but he was certainly smitten at the site. He backed up from the door as Ornstein gently moved to return Gwyndolin to his crib. He watched him bend over and gently kiss his forehead, "Rest well little one. Just as I protect my master I shall protect you too."

Farram swiftly returned to the empty conference room and lingered in the door way. He dared not interrupt such a precious moment, and he found himself having to wipe a tear away. He never realized Ornstein had such a tender side, or that he was so gorgeous. "Don't get too carried away with those thoughts. He's your squire, there's no way in hell he'd give you a chance." He whispered as he shook his head. But as he heard the sound of metal clanking softly down the hall he felt his face get warm. Ornstein rounded the corner and greeted his master with a bow. "Forgive me your grace. I thought I heard something down the hall and... Are you ill? You're looking flushed?!" His voice was laced with concern.

"I'm alright. It was just a little heated during the meeting. I have nothing further for you this evening, so you are dismissed." Farram said calmly with a reassuring smile. "As you wish, your grace." Ornstein bowed and set off for his chambers.


	4. The Wyvern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is brief adult humor in this chapter.

It was a crisp autumn morning, the sky was pale blue and dotted with feathery pink clouds. The forests around Anor Londo were turning shades of scarlet, orange, and gold. The ivory spires of the half finished cathedral gleamed like a brilliant jewel in the sunlight. It was a beautiful sight, too bad it went unnoticed by Ornstein as he screwed his eyes shut and tightened his grip.

The screams of the furious drake were like nails on a chalkboard as it weaved to and fro, trying its best to throw off its unwanted rider. As it dove sharply Ornstein felt the contents of his stomach threatening to come up. Soon the beast leveled out and he tried to reach his spear that was lodged in the creature's shoulder, but quickly decided against it as he felt a bolt of lightning whiz past his head. Down below he saw the figure of his master standing in a clearing. He wore look of calm confidence as he readied another bolt. It flew faster than any arrow and it's aim was true. It tore through the side of the drake and the electricity wormed its way into its heart. The drake gave a horrid screech as it fell into a death spiral.

Most people would be terrified at this moment, but Ornstein felt oddly tranquil as he watched the ground plummeting towards him. Following instinct he released his hold on the drake's neck and leapt away from it as it crashed into the ground. Ornstein landed nearby, rolling to lessen the impact but the force still managed to knock the air from his lungs. He laid there staring at the sky in a haze as his head spun.

Farram watched the strange drake falling from the sky after his bolt pierced it. He kept his gaze on his squire as he watched him detach himself from the beast. The ground trembled as the creature landed and he ran to see what became of his friend. The instant he saw him lying motionless on the ground his heart stopped. At that moment his victory meant nothing to him, dropping his spear he rushed to Ornstein's side. He pulled his helmet off and tossed it behind him, his eyes were unfocused as he stared off into nothingness. Gently lifting him, Farram cradled him in his lap as he begun to recite a healing miracle.

Ornstein felt himself being surrounded by a gentle warmth, almost as if he was laying in a beam of sunlight, it seeped through his armor and down into his bones. A feeling of strength and clarity came over him as he regained his senses. He blinked in astonishment at the concerned look on his master's face as a gently whispered prayer fell from his lips. He reached up and gently caressed his cheek, he knew it was a breech of etiquette, but it was the only thing he could think of to reassure him he was alright.

"Are you alright? I was afraid I'd have to ready a funeral for you." His voice was tinged with anxiety and relief. Ornstein gave a deadpan response, "Imagine my epitaph: Here lies Ornstein. Idiot squire felled by an infant drake." Farram rolled his eyes then smiled faintly, "Indeed, you are an idiot. But you are my idiot and it is my wish that you remain so for many years to come."  
"That's high praise coming from you master!" Ornstein grinned. Farram gently smacked his chest plate at his teasing. "What am I going to do with you?" He sighed. He stood and got Ornstein to his feet, together they looked at the corpse of the drake they had slain. It was most unusual in size, it was clearly mature but smaller than a hatchling dragon. It was missing its front limbs but it had both its wings, and it's scale were fragile compared to the dragons they usually slew. What was it?

(A few hours later) (adult humor warning)

Two Silver Knights stood guarding the entrance to a narrow corridor where the palace trophy rooms were. A strange noise and low voices made them raise their weapons.

"I'm telling you it's too big! You can't fit it all in there!"

"Sure it will, just put your leg over there and turn this way."

"I am not a contortionist, your grace! We don't have the room for this!"

"Damn! I'm getting blood all over the hall! This was a terrible idea! Why don't we switch places?"

"What makes you think that will help?!!"

During this exchange the knights became increasingly uncomfortable. Each frantically gestured the other to look around the corner but neither was willing to do so. They both went stiff when Farram exited the hallway. "Excuse me, but I'm afraid I may need your assistance with---uh perhaps you two should go to the infirmary. You don't look well."

The knights nodded, they didn't want any part of this. "Well, before you go, please send someone to help us with this strange drake my squire and I hauled in." They finally looked into the hallway to see the corpse of a deformed dragon wedged into an awkward position.

Lord Gwyn stood in surprise at the malformed creature sitting in the trophy room. Nearby stood Ornstein, Farram, and a channeler of Duke Seath. He had been summoned to explain what the creature was, and it was revealed to be a wyvern. They were lesser kin and sometimes prey of their everlasting cousins. The Lord of Sunlight gave a look of disdain at the carcass and was all too happy to allow the channeler to remove it at the Duke's request.

As he departed the trophy room he noticed the extensive trail of blood leading down the hall. Since it was his son's fault for the mess he ordered his squire to clean it up. As they watched their Lord depart Farram whispered into Ornstein's ear. "Fret not, this was both our mess. I shall not leave you to clean up alone." "Thank you, your grace." Ornstein whispered back.


	5. Hidden in sight

The christening of the cathedral in Anor Londo had gone as planned. But with the coming spring the dragons returned seeking vengeance. All other plans had to be put on hold. And they remained on hold for nearly five years as the Lord of Sunlight launched a merciless campaign against them. Faram and Ornstein often went out on their Lord's command. And with a successive string of victories Ornstein earned the title of Dragonslayer. It was after another bloody victory and after the violent slaughter of another elder dragon that Anor Londo saw peace once more.

Ornstein looked over his handiwork as he returned his master's armor to its stand. This set was golden and decorated with intricate designs, he had polished it till he could see his reflection in it. It was purely ceremonial though, his master's long awaited coronation was tomorrow. All the nobility would be there, he wished he could attend but squires were not allowed in such important events. But that didn't really bother him, parties weren't really his thing.

It was nearly noon and he couldn't find his master anywhere. He was supposed to be rehearsing his lines, but instead he'd gone out. With nothing else to do Ornstein decided he was going to go visit the local tavern for a pint. In his room he changed out of his armor and slipped on a plain set of traveler's clothes. He pulled the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and slipped out of the palace through a back passage.

He blended right in with the crowds of people coming and going through the streets. Being cautious he took a few side roads to avoid the patrols, he didn't feel like running into anyone he knew. Ornstein kept his hood up as he entered the tavern and pulled up a stool next to a tall warrior in Northern garb. He was chatting idly with the bar tender and he couldn't help but notice something off with his accent. So he tuned in to listen.

"I tell ya, that young man has big shoes to fill. Being heir isn't an easy job." The bar tender said as he leaned on the counter. The northerner nodded, "Ay. But I see he's got himself a squire to help him. Not only is he a renowned dragon slayer, but the man is quite the looker with a sharp wit. Hell! If ay were a lass id court the man me self!" Ornstein glanced over at the man as he sipped his drink. How odd for a Northerner to have golden eyes and speak with a Berenike accent, he thought. As he studied the man's peculiar features it dawned on him who it was.

He nearly spat out his drink as he recognized his master sitting next to him. But wait...he would court him? He had feelings for him?! He felt a warm fuzzy feeling settle in his chest at this revelation. As the bar tender left to prepare a food order in the back Ornstein leaned over and asked quietly. "You'd really court that man if you had the chance?"

"Of course! He has a fire in his soul like no other. Yet I've heard he's as gentle as he is fierce. A friend told me once how he took the time to comfort a cryin' babe as he carried out his duties to his Lord." Ornstein's jaw dropped, his master had seen him with Gywndolin? He had to have another beer after hearing about that. But first, he felt it was time to repay his Lord for his mischief. "So, have you finished memorizing your lines, your grace?" He said as he turned to where his face was easily seen.

Farram nearly choked on his drink, his eyes went wide and his face colored red as he realized it was Ornstein he was talking with. "You're not supposed to be here!" He hissed. "Neither are you!" Ornstein shot back. He gave a devilish grin as his master tried to muster a reply, his expressions flickering between guilt, shock, and embarrassment. When he couldn't think of anything he tossed down a few coins to pay for his drink and scurried out of the tavern.

He took the time to down another pint before going home himself. Once inside his room he changed into something comfortable. Digging about in a trunk at the foot of his bed he pulled out a sketch pad and a few pencils. Sketching was a guilty pleasure of his that he rarely had time for, so with a blank page in front of him he sat by his window and let his hands draw idly. Sometimes he'd find himself drawing scenery, animals, or people. But somehow he managed to do a rough impression of his master. As he added the details to his armor he felt a sense of guilt creeping over him. He had been embarrassed by his indirect confession and was probably hiding away in shame.

He sighed as he set down the pad, "I should check on him, if he didn't have any nerves before hand he will now." But just as he had donned his armor and stepped into the hall he was stopped by a herald. "Greetings, I have instructions from your master. He is not to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening so he may prepare in peace. And I have a summons for you from Gwyndolin." He poorly hid the disdain in his voice as he said the young god's name.

Ornstein scowled, "Do not use such an insolent tone when speaking of our Lords!" He snapped. The herald's face went pale and he fumbled an apology as he hurried away. He gave an annoyed huff and set off for Gwyndolin's room. The boy sat polishing a golden circlet at his vanity. Nearby a white silk gown was neatly folded and ready for use. Ornstein stepped inside and shut the door before giving him a bow. "I'm at your service Lord Gwyndolin."

The boy gave a painfully sad smile as he replied, "Greetings Squire Ornstein, please do not call me Lord. I am unworthy of the title, so Gwyndolin will suffice." He felt his heart ache at his sullen demeanor but replied, "In my eyes you are a Lord. And despite royal decree you will always have my love and respect." He watched the boy place his hands to his mouth to cover his smile. After taking a moment to compose himself he stood from his chair and folded his hands in front of him.

"As you know, my brother's coronation is in the morning. I am allowed to attend under the condition that I have a chaperone. My father has sent the other priestesses away except for the one assigned to Fillianore. My dear brother often speaks so highly of you, and it would mean a great deal to him to see you there. So it is my wish that you be my chaperone for tomorrow." Ornstein couldn't help but smile warmly, "Your grace, it would be my honor to escort you to the coronation." In a rare display of joy Gwyndolin laughed as he wrapped himself around the dragon slayer's waist in a hug.

(The next morning)

The sanctuary of Anor Londo glowed with warm golden light as the morning sun poured through. The nobles and the royal family were gathered inside all dressed in their finest clothing, down the middle was an aisle marked by two rows of Black Knights, their weapons raised in salute. Lord Gwyn stood proudly as his son walked down the aisle, he looked as radiant as the sun itself in his shimmering golden armor.

Farram was calm and collected as he approached his father and knelt before him. He recited his lines without faltering then rose to stand at his father's side. The nobles bowed their heads as the Lord of Sunlight said a lengthy blessing over them. But as Farram's eyes scanned the crowd he spotted Ornstein near the back holding Gwyndolin up so he could see. He had elected to leave his helmet behind, and he looked every bit like a love struck maiden as he stood next to a group of clerics. As their eyes locked he saw him mouthing something before looking down to hide his blush. If he didn't know any better it looked as if he'd said: I'm proud of you.


	6. First Knight

Tucked away in a discreet corner of Anor Londo sits a little tavern. On any given day the soldiers of Gwyn, the Black Knights, even the occasional dragon slayer could be found here. But today the tavern was dimly lit and quiet, along the far wall a cloaked figure sat clutching a cold glass of ale.

The events of that morning played out over and over again in Ornstein's mind. He kept asking himself if he had simply dreamt it all up, but every time he raised his glass to his lips he glimpsed the golden ring on his right hand. It was simple and bore the image of a roaring lion, and it was a symbol of his new status. At dawn he had been summoned to the cathedral by Lord Gwyn himself. He recalled with a shiver how his Lord gazed at him, it was as if he was peering straight into the core of his being. With a booming laugh he proclaimed that his soul was worthy, and so he was promptly knighted and given the title of First Knight of Gwyn.

Bishop Havel and several of Lord Gwyn's personal guard had been there as witnesses. And once the ceremony was concluded he had been given the day off to await the return of his master. He departed the prior evening to dismantle a dragon nesting sight. The cathedral bells began tolling loudly proclaiming it was noon. Ornstein sighed as he drained his glass, it was time to leave before the rowdy lunch crowd came in. He paid the bartender and strolled along the back alleys to avoid the cluttered main road. A few servants bustling by paid him no mind as he slipped into one of the palace's back doors.

In his chambers he found a chest had been delivered to him along with a weapon case. In the chest was a set of armor, it was golden and covered with delicate scrolling designs. Ornstein picked up each piece and turned them over, inspecting them and admiring the level of detail the divine blacksmith put into it. The last thing he picked up was his helmet. Much like his ring it bore the visage of a regal lion with its lips curled in a snarl, he noticed a hole in the back as he turned it around. It didn't take much thought to guess what it was for.

With a grin of delight he removed his disguise and put on his new armor. He handled each piece as if it was sacred and fragile, walking around his room he couldn't be happier with how it felt. His Silver Knight armor was heavy, restricting, and uncomfortable. This new armor was light, easy to maneuver in, and was almost like a second skin. After threading his hair through the helmet he moved to look in his wall mirror. He could hardly believe it was him he was looking at, turning to the side he saw his fiery copper hair was almost like a plume running down his back. "That was Farram's idea, has to be." He shook his head with a sigh. Farram often lamented that he hid away his gorgeous locks under his helmet.

Next he opened the weapon case, and inside he found his master's winged spear. "No! What is he thinking? This ones his favorite! I couldn't accept this." His face was a mix of surprise and disbelief. Gingerly he lifted the spear and looked it over, it had recently been cleaned and it's blades sharpened to a fine edge. It softly tingled in his hands as electricity pulsed through it, waiting to be let loose. Carefully he gave it a few swings and it felt almost like an extension of himself.

He had to admit much like his master and he, they fit together harmoniously. Ornstein was overjoyed with his gifts and wanted to show his master how grateful he was. But his smile faded little as he recalled that he was away, he had no choice but to wait for him. If he went to the gate he might get his skull caved in by the Royal Sentinels, so instead he would wait in the cathedral sanctuary. Holding his spear tightly he set off for the annex. To his good fortune the Lord of Sunlight was departing that afternoon for Vinheim on a state visit. So Ornstein used this opportunity to volunteer himself to guard the throne room until nightfall.

He was used to guard duty, but he found guarding the sanctuary rather dull. The place was eerily silent since most of the royal family was out. A few times a silver knight would pass by on patrol and they'd give a salute. "That's going to take getting used to." Ornstein muttered. Getting restless he took the elevator up to the balcony and leaned on the railing. Around evening a few of the palace clergy came by to light the candles and change out the censers, all were oblivious to the knight watching up above.

Seeing this Ornstein decided that it would be wise to remain on the balcony during his watches to gain an advantage over intruders. An hour later his master finally returned, he strolled up into the annex as a guard was closing the doors for the night. He had an ancient sword spear hefted over his shoulder and a contented look on his face. Ornstein could tell he was tired but had achieved another victory.

He climbed the steps and entered the sanctuary, he too failed to notice his knight keeping watch. "Oh, I can't miss a chance to screw with him." Ornstein said with an evil grin. Without hesitation he leapt over the railing and landed on his feet with cat-like grace. He gave his master a theatrical bow as he greeted him. "I've waited long for your return, your grace."  
He glanced up at Farram when he didn't get a reply. The god stood slack jawed, blinking owlishly at him. "Um? Was that entrance a bit much your grace?" He was starting to get concerned, his mouth was moving but no sound came out. Was he having a stroke? Could a god even have a stroke? Finally he spoke, his voice was filled with quiet reverence. "By the sun! You look beautiful!"

Ornstein gave a light hearted chuckle. "You are pleased by what you see?" Farram nodded numbly. A strange expression crossed his face, almost as if a thought came to him but felt guilty for it. Ornstein wasn't a fool, it wasn't lost on him that his master had feelings for him. After all the years together they had grown close, and the dragon slayer often found himself wanting to return his master's love. Only it was forbidden, he was of the race of Lords and Farram was literally a god not to mention future Lord of Sunlight.

Glancing past his shoulder to the annex he saw that nobody was around. The lion knight stepped closer and embraced his master. "Your grace? I want you to know that I love you and cherish you greatly. I feel truly blessed that you would allow me to serve as your knight." Farram put his arms around him and held him close, "It's a blessing itself to hear you say that you love me. But you know we can't be anything more than what we are now. Father would be furious..."

"We've withstood his wrath before and lived. Besides we've done many things that he doesn't know about, like when we broke that knight statue while trying to fire a great bow." This made Farram laugh, the archers were chastised and made to practice all that day. "And if I recall I swore an oath to ever be at your side, so why settle for my loyalty when I'm willing to give you much more?" He swore he could see little hearts fluttering about his master's head.

They pulled away to a respectful distance as the sound of an approaching patrol came near. A Silver Knight approached with a stiff salute, "Sir Ornstein, I've come to relieve you for the night." Ornstein nodded, "Thank you." Then turning to his master he said, "If your grace has no further task for me, I shall retire for the evening." Farram nodded his consent and as his knight walked away he had to stifle a sigh. He looked just a beautiful from behind as well as the front.


	7. Campaign's end

Ornstein let out a defiant roar as he charged forward with his spear. The dragon before him was far larger than any he had previously faced, in fact it was nearly five times the size of a Royal Sentinel. It's jagged gray scales gave it the appearance of a statue more than a living being. Its large dark eyes fixed on him with a look of contempt as it readied itself to attack. Behind the dragon slayer was a company of Silver Knights with great bows waiting to be fired. On command they took aim and loosed their lightning arrows. The dragon shrieked as it wings were shredded, during this Ornstein had flanked it and jabbed his spear into its back leg. The dragon swung its tail, and Ornstein got sent flying and hit the ground hard.

Springing to his feet he let loose a lightning bolt to distract the creature while the archers readied another round. The dragon brought down a clawed hand to smash the lion knight, but he jumped back and thrust his spear into its hand. Enraged, the dragon spit out a blast of flame, this time Ornstein wasn't quick enough...

Farram had just arrived with reinforcements and saw Ornstein take a direct hit from the dragon's flames, he fell to the ground and went still. The god of war charged forward with a furious cry. A dark rage began to boil in his blood as he slammed his sword spear into the dragon's side. Scales cracked and fell away from the force of the impact, exposing vulnerable skin underneath. The dragon swung around to bite at its attacker, but Farram jumped to the side and thrust his weapon into the creature's eye. It screamed as he let a burst of lightning loose from his sword spear. A horrid stench filled the air as it eyeball sizzled and boiled away. 

Seeing his blow stunned the beast he climbed on top of its head and thrust the strongest lightning stake he could manage into its skull. The dragon dropped dead, the force of the impact sent a cloud of dust up in the air, obscuring the battlefield. Farram turned to look for Ornstein, and he gave a prayer of thanks to see him slowly rising to his feet. 

Ornstein leaned on his spear as he limped away from the dead dragon, he scanned the battlefield and through the haze spotted his master nearby. His left ankle crackled as he moved and every part of him was sore, he hissed in pain as he felt his tunic tugging at his burnt skin. Farram rushed over to his knight and put his arm around him to help him stay balanced. "That was too close, I thought you'd been killed. How are you feeling?" He could see by his stiff movements that he had been badly burned.

"Ah, just a little rosemary and thyme, maybe a pinch of salt, I should be just fine." Farram groaned at his bad joke, "You're incredible! How can you think to joke after such a close call?! I was worried that i'd lost you!" Ornstein looked over to see his master's eyes were glistening with unshed tears. The lion knight bit his lip in shame, "Forgive me, that was in bad taste."

After an hour they finally reached their camp and Farram walked Ornstein into his tent. There he helped him out of his armor and finally got to see the extent of his injuries. The skin on his chest was bright red and had already begun to blister, his back was no better. On his arms he had the worst burns, there the skin was darkened and cracked. His ankle was broken from being thrown, and on his cheek was a gash that was still bleeding. The dragonslayer flinched and trembled at every touch, he was in immense pain but he didn't dare show it. He remain stoic and serene despite his wounds. Farram laid Ornstein on his cot and made him comfortable, then he gingerly laid his hands over his knight's heart as he knelt at his bedside. 

They had healers there in camp, but they were busy tending to the others that had been wounded over the past few days. So instead of waiting for one of them he took it upon himself to heal his knight. This time he recited the Great Healing, and as he spoke the prayer Ornstein looked on with a loving gaze. Slowly he lifted his hand to brush away a stray tear that began to run down Farram's cheek. "You look at me as though I've already passed." He said with a faint smile. His master gave a shuddering sigh, "Please, save your strength. You'll be needing it for the return home."

"I'll rest once I know that you'll be alright." He replied. "I'm fine...it's just...I watched you take that blow...I took out my rage and grief on the dragon hoping to avenge you..." Farram let his eyes wander over the slowly fading burns as he spoke. Ornstein understood all too well what he was feeling, he had felt it himself every time he went into battle. Wether it was one close to you or a new friend, watching what might be the final moments of their life was always difficult. And at every burial he would often recall the last moments they'd spend together or their last conversation. As his pain eased he felt a wave of fatigue slowly wash over him, he would rest but first he had one last thing he needed to do.

"Come closer." He whispered. His master complied. The lion knight propped himself up on one elbow, wincing as his body ached in protest. With his free hand he wrapped his arm around his master's neck, his fingers tangling in his messy silver hair. He brought his lips to Farram's, a sudden warmth flooded through him as he kissed him. When he pulled away he saw his master's cheeks had colored pink and there was a warm smile on his face. Lying back down he closed his eyes, "Now I can rest." He said sleepily.

(A few days later)

The vibrant greens hills of Catarina were alive with joy at the news of the dragon's defeat. Near the border with Lordran sat a cozy little tavern. It was a simple structure made of cob and timbers, on the inside it was filled rustic wooden tables and adorned with garlands of local wildflowers. With a days ride from home the soldiers of Gwyn decided to take a break to rest. Several of the Silver Knights sat alongside the knights of Catarina raising a mug to their Lord or singing along with their hosts.

Up above were several rooms that had been rented out to house the injured. Ornstein ended up in one of these rooms, he was supposed to be sleeping, but with all the revelry downstairs how could he? So he sat at a small writing table working on writing the reports for Lord Gwyn to read. This latest campaign had been successful, but not without several losses. Underneath his tunic Ornstein's chest and arms were wrapped with bandages, he cursed himself as his skin started itching again. His master swore that he would bind his hands if he caught him scratching at them again.

He shook his head with a grin as he heard his master's booming baritone during a chorus. I wonder what taltz mitt mir means? He thought as he dipped his quill into his inkwell. Around sundown his master came upstairs with a bowl of soup for him. His expression was that of a disappointed parent as he saw his knight hard at work. "Why aren't you resting?" He asked as he set his food down on the night stand. "I need to get this done while everything is still fresh in my mind." Ornstein replied.

"That can wait for when we get home, for now take a break eat something." Farram said as he sat on the bed. Ornstein could tell by his tone that was an order, so he tucked away his papers and got his food from the nightstand. He couldn't help but notice his master yawning tiredly as he watched him eat. "If you'd like your welcome to rest here with me? It'll be better than sleeping on the ground again." Farram gave a thoughtful look as he glanced from his knight to the bed and back again.

"I suppose I could...I won't make you uncomfortable will I?" Ornstein laughed a little, "I feel like a piece of fried chicken that's been mummified. I'm already uncomfortable, there's no way you could make it worse." His master rolled his eyes at the mental image that gave. Once Ornstein finished eating he left his bowl on the desk and locked his door. Together he and Farram climbed under the blankets and went to sleep. That was the first night in many years that Ornstein slept peacefully.


	8. Holy Heretics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is adult humor in this chapter, and a crackship warning. This chapter has a mature ending.

Far to the south of Lordran and beyond the Great Marsh lay the blessed land of Astora. From its lush green mountains and towering forests to its crystal clear lakes and streams it looked every bit like a place from a fairy tale. The sun shined brightly on this land and it's people, so it is no wonder that the gods chose to spend their leisure time there. Not far from the capital city was the massive Basilica of Sunlight. It's white limestone spires mimicked the cathedral of Anor Londo, and the inside was filled with vivid frescos depicting the divine tales, life like statues of the gods, and a dome of stained glass that lit the central altar in a soft golden light.

On an upper level were several wooden booths with a long bench placed in each of them. Their tall panels could easily hide a person behind them and long ornate tapestries hung from them depicting the heraldry of Astora's royal family. Ornstein sat alone in one of these booths opposite of Gwynevere and her maidens on the far side. Down below Lord Gwyn and several high ranking clergy were stationed at the central altar participating in the midday service.

Today was a sacred day, it was the anniversary of the founding of the Warriors of Sunlight covenant. All the nobles of Astora and their valiant knights were in attendance. There was also going to be a swearing in of a few new members by their senior counterparts. The lion knight glanced at the empty seat next to him, his master was supposed to have been there some time ago. He sighed quietly as the bells in the towers outside sounded loudly, his master had half an hour to get there before they locked the doors.

Gwynevere waved at him from across the way gesturing to the empty bench, Ornstein shook his head, he didn't know where his Lord was. The sun princess rolled her eyes with a gentle smile and motioned for him to go. It didn't take much thought for Ornstein to realize what she meant. Quietly taking his leave he crept through the empty halls to the quarters where Farram and he were staying. The monks lived in small quarters and a few had been kind enough to give up their rooms while the royals visited. Ornstein knocked a few times before entering, he wasn't sure why he bothered though, he knew he wouldn't be there.

"Your grace, I'm coming in to check on you." He announced as he opened the door. He saw his master's robes and weapon neatly laid out to be used, his travel bag was opened and had been rummaged through. "Gods, not again! Why did you choose today to skip service?" He groaned. Leaving Farram's room Ornstein heads to his and changes out of his armor. If he had to search for his master it would be easier incognito.  
The first place he thought to search was the woods behind the basilica. There was a narrow dirt trail that meandered lazily through patches of brush and clusters of dense trees. Ornstein slipped out a side door and through a garden gate and set off to search for Farram.

An hour later, and a little too late to attend the service, the lion knight finds his master sitting under a tree a ways from the path. It looked as if he went to meditate and fell asleep. "Wake up, your grace." He says as he gently shakes his master's shoulder. "Five more minutes..." Farram murmurs sleepily. "We missed the service, Gwyn is going to kill us!" He replies. Farram's eyes shot open, shock and worry written all over his face.

He opened his mouth to speak when a metallic clank makes him freeze. Ornstein crouched down and listened, what he heard was surprising. There were two warriors laying in the bushes a stones throw away, apparently they'd just woke up.

"Ledo! Wake up cuntlord!"

"Hmmm? The fuck you want sweetheart?"

"We need to get going. The lads will be looking for us."

"Fine... Gods I'm going to be sore later."

"Hehehe....Your brother wasn't joking about you havin' a clit. Best rut I've ever had and you aren't even a lass!!"

"Don't you dare breath a word of this or I'll tell everyone what a heretic you are!"

"And I'll murder you with my other club next time I bed you! *sigh* See you in a few weeks?"

"Yeah, you buy the beer next time Bishop. I can barely afford to get myself drunk, let alone you. You drink like a damn fiend!!"

"Hahaha! Rookie... Love ya Ledo. Be safe won't ya?"

"Love you too Havel. I'll take care, and I'll bring back a souvenir from my next adventure."

"Get outta here heathen!" Havel watches Ledo leave before going a different direction. All this time Farram had turned from tan to red to purple. It was sheer will that kept him from laughing and giving them away. Once it was safe Ornstein and Farram erupted into thunderous peels of laughter. Ornstein brushed a stray tear away as he caught his breath. "Alright you grace....we're already going to get in trouble. So care to go hang around in town today?" His master nods, "Sure. I know a great cafe. Want to get breakfast?" Ornstein smiles at the thought.


End file.
